


Ugly is in the Eye of the Beholder

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [6]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Boyfriends, Christmas, Christmas Jumpers, Christmas Party, First Meeting, Happy Ending, JOHNLOCK IS ENDGAME, John's a customer, KatsXmasJohnlockPrompts2019, M/M, Sherlock works at a charity shop, Unilock, flirtatious Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21685522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Uni student John is humiliated by his posh boyfriend George and in a rage breaks up with him. Attempting to rid himself of his "frumpy" jumpers, John meets a gorgeous young man named Sherlock.
Relationships: John/OMC, Johnlock (pre-slash), Mike Stamford/Molly Hooper
Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558120
Comments: 15
Kudos: 110
Collections: Kat's Johnlock Xmas 2019





	Ugly is in the Eye of the Beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 Prompt: Christmas sweater

John Watson had had  _ a lot _ of really crap boyfriends. Most of them, in fact. His sister Harry told him to quit picking tossers but it wasn’t like he went out  _ looking _ for bellends to fall in love with.

This was the first time he’d found one of them blatantly stealing from him though. Althought he’d been stolen from and cheated before. They had stolen from him, yes, but not so blatantly. Wrapped in a towel, John stood in the doorway of his tiny bedroom in the flat he shared with three other lads. The water dripping down his neck from his hair wasn’t the only thing that caused a chill to move through him. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked in disbelief.

George straightened up from where he’d been rifling through John’s drawers, “Oh hey, Johnny, help me out--where’s that hideous jumper of yours?”

Nonplused, John stopped, “Um, what?”

George smiled, “You know, that snowman thing you bought the other day? I’m going to an Ugly Christmas Jumper party tonight and I wanted to wear it.” Going back to rummaging through John’s things, he tossed over his shoulder, “It will be a scream.”

John went rapidly hot and cold, humiliation and outrage swamping him. His vision went wobbly and red, and the next little bit of time was kind of a blur. All he remembered was George’s comically stunned expression, his mouth hanging open as he absorbed John’s tirade. The entire scene ended with John throwing George’s things at him and telling him to fuck off.

The rage warmed him only so long; in its wake came a return of humiliation and hurt feelings. His wardrobe was just a joke to George--and his posh friends, no doubt. Before he could stop to think, John was dressing, and began flinging all of his jumpers in a bin bag.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  


The shop was mostly empty and Sherlock was  _ bored. _

He’d finished his school-work long since, and was leaning on the glass case of costume jewelry by the register, watching the few patrons in the shop. None of them were very interesting, and he’d drawn what conclusions he could from them.

So he perked up when the bell over the door jingled and a quirkily good looking blonde came through the door, breathing fire, murder and misery in his eyes. In spite of the winter weather, the young man was damp-haired, obviously fresh from a shower, and wearing a hastily thrown on collection of mismatched clothing. Hauling a stuffed bin bag onto the counter, he glowered at Sherlock, “I need to sell these--if they’re worth anything at all.”

Straightening, Sherlock let his mouth curl into a slow smile. “Oh no, that’s not the way at all.”

“Excuse me?”

“You want the most money for your items, so you’re supposed to be very confident, assure me of their value. Demand top dollar, as it were. We’ll haggle until we’re both happy, somewhere in the middle. Don’t go into a negotiation acting as if your lot is rubbish.”

He flushed, looking annoyed. It was a surprisingly good look on him. “It isn’t rubbish. I’ll have you know there’s some top quality wool and cashmere in here!”

“Excellent. Much better beginning.” Sherlock gestured at the bag, “Shall we?”

Discomfited, the blonde spilled things out onto the counter, willy-nilly. It all looked to be fairly newish, if not outright new. Quite good condition. Lots of jumpers. Clearly a man who valued comfort, quality and knew how to care for things properly. Sherlock approved. “This is quite a lot. Having a spring clean just before you cash in on new gifts?”

“No.” He was curt, and his stance tense.

“Mmm.” Sherlock sorted efficiently through them, only pausing when he came to a few brand new items, still dangling tags. He held up a plush dark blue cable knit jumper, with a band of white snowmen across the upper chest and arms. The blonde--John Watson, according to the laundry tags in his clothes--would look bloody marvelous in that shade of blue. “You should keep this.”

The mulish jaw took on an even more obstinate cast. “No. That one goes. I don’t care if you give me anything for it. Just throw it in a tip.”

“I may keep it for myself,” Sherlock mused, holding it up. “It might be a bit short in the arms on me, but this is gorgeous.”

John looked startled, “I--really?”

“Mm-hm. This blue is fantastic, although it’s really more your color than mine.” Sherlock looked up at John through his lashes, smile a bit coy, “Dark red looks better on me...like this.” Picking up a cardinal-red jumper that looked like it might be a tad too small for John, he held it against himself, smoothing one hand over the design of poinsettias and snowflakes. “What do you think?” He met John’s eyes, holding his gaze a tad too long to be polite.

“It’s...yeah, good,” John licked his lips, eyes locked on Sherlock’s. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock purred. “We’d look stunning together. If only I had somewhere to wear this...” His gaze was limpid, “Someone to wear it with…”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ “Who _ is that with John?” Molly whisper-shrieked, clutching at her best friend Janine’s arm. 

Janine didn’t have to crane her neck (damn her superior height), and she narrowed her eyes, watching the duo coming in the front door of Molly and her boyfriend Mike’s crowded flat. “I don’t know who that tall drink of water is,” she murmured, “But I am  _ thirsty.” _

Molly pulled her back. “Oh no you don’t.” Janine was gorgeous, and smart, funny and charming. It was very, very easy for her to turn men’s heads. Molly had seen John’s face--seen the way he looked at the tall brunette smiling down at him as if in John he’d found a treasure--and he’d never looked that happy with a single one of his legion of horrible boyfriends. Nothing would interrupt the path to happiness she hoped he’d found. Spying Mary Morstan walking toward the pair, smile on her face, Molly pushed Janine against the wall, “Stay.”

“I’m not a naughty puppy you know,” Janine called after her in amusement.

Molly swooped in on Mary, and in five steps had her diverted nicely. John Watson deserved happiness, and if he’d found it with this mysterious man, then Molly Hooper would see that he remained undisturbed. 

She was nothing if not an exemplary hostess and truly awesome friend.


End file.
